


For the Night

by Barrhorn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Minor Angst, Minor Brigitte Lindholm/Hana "D.Va" Song, Threesome - F/F/F, but it's still a, it's more relationship focused than explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 22:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barrhorn/pseuds/Barrhorn
Summary: But the truth is that she wants this: a night with two women who care for her, and whom she cares for in return. If that's all this is, a night of talking and teasing, of little flirtations and laughter, then it will be enough. If it's something more intimate, and that's a mistake, then it's a mistake she desperately wants to make.(The truth is that Angela is sure there is no heartbreak she can save herself from.)





	For the Night

Angela stands in the doorway - she refuses to call it leaning, no matter how much of her weight the sturdy frame is supporting - watching Hana's animated smile.

Hana had refused to talk to her any longer, claiming she was fine, thank you very much, but she sensed a sudden unconsciousness threatening if she was hovered over for one more minute. Or retorting that Angela herself should be in bed, hadn't she been working all day, didn't she risk getting sick herself? Not very smart for a genius.

Angela didn't take offense. Couldn't, when she knew logically that Hana was doing much better. Couldn't, considering the young woman was right.

But it's only now, when Brigitte had arrived with a quick hug for Angela and a whispered, "Thank you for taking care of her," that Angela's felt comfortable retreating even this far.

Watching the pair together, Angela can feel herself start to relax after another long day in the medical wing. It's true that Hana tends to diminish her own pain and hide it behind bravado like many soldiers, but there's none of the too familiar lines around her eyes, nothing brash in her smile. If anything, she softens as Brigitte takes one hand in both of hers, turning more to her side to see her visitor more clearly.

Angela's glad to see it, glad to see the way Brigitte leans into the bed and how Hana watches her come closer with clear adoration.

She's not prepared for the wave of longing that washes over her, forcing her to turn away from the pair and their clear, mutual admiration.

Not seeing them doesn't stop the ache from curling around her chest before settling into her stomach, and Angela presses her hand against the spot, as if it were a physical pain her nanites could heal.

 _Note to self,_ she thinks, not for the first time, _invent a way to cure loneliness._

Of course, there is a cure for this particular case, and she knows it well. No excuse available, considering this afternoon, when Fareeha came to check on Hana's progress. And though the two pilots had chatted for a while, often with laughter, Angela had felt Fareeha's quiet regard on herself more than once. When she'd stood to leave, she'd paused long enough to rest a hand on Angela's shoulder.

"Come by later," she'd offered. "We miss you."

Angela had hesitated, then nodded, and though Fareeha had lingered for a moment longer, she'd left without Angela saying a word.

She shouldn't go, Angela thinks. It's absurd for her to get involved with one member of Overwatch, let alone two. And Fareeha and Aleksandra work so well together, whenever she sees them. It's almost beautiful to watch them on the battlefield: Aleksandra shielding Fareeha just as she dives into range of the enemies' weapons; Fareeha wheeling on a dime in the air and the covers of the Raptora suit opening just as Aleksandra throws out a surge of gravitational energy.

(Angela tries to forget the way the wind feels in her face when flying with Fareeha, or Aleksandra's pleased "We protect each other, no?" when Angela tries to thank her after a mission.)

Off the field, it's still easy to find them together, working out together in the gym or each tinkering with their weapons in the hangar, always with laughter and good-natured ribbing. Whenever she walks into the room, they turn to her with matching smiles and an easy welcome, drawing her into their circle without hesitation. 

(Angela's even had the pleasure of seeing them together in the bedroom, and even there the competitiveness never fades away completely. The laughter is quieter but no less real, and she shivers remembering the look in Aleksandra's eyes when she'd turned to her once and asked if she wanted to see how Amari looked when she fell apart.)

It's a madness, she thinks, this yearning that she feels. Wanting to get involved with two soldiers who care more for the people around them than their own well-being. Opening herself to twice the concern, twice the complication, twice the chance for heartbreak.

She jumps when a hand touches her back, and turns to see Brigitte watching her with concern. "Are you alright?" she asks softly, and Angela glances toward the bed, where Hana is turned away, the blankets pulled up. "Hana was feeling tired, so I thought I'd come back later. You seem a little out of it too." Brigitte's eyes focus on her, and Angela has to smile at the memory of when those eyes had to look up at her instead of down. "Don't overdo it."

"I'm fine," she reassures her. "Yes, a little tired, but nothing more. We've all had a long few days."

Nodding, Brigitte lets her hand fall away from her back, and Angela finds herself missing the simple, uncomplicated contact.

"Goodnight, Brigitte. I'm sure we'll all meet back here tomorrow."

She waits as Brigitte leaves the room, just in case Hana needs something and didn't want to reveal it in front of her girlfriend. But Hana is asleep, a good sign, and though Angela wishes she had one more chance to remind Hana to call if she needs anything, she isn't going to wake her just for that.

Though she checks Hana's readouts one more time, though she straightens the room a little, fetches a glass of water to leave at Hana's bedside in case she wakes, it's not long before Angela finds herself with nothing else that needs to be done. And thus, no more reason to stall for time to think.

As if her mind wasn't already made up.

"Athena," she says as she steps into the hall. "Please alert me if something in Agent Song's status changes. I'm leaving the medical wing for the night."

There are a lot of excuses she could make for herself as she walks toward the residential section of the base, as she turns the opposite way of her own quarters. She could tell herself that it's only for the night, or that she's already told Fareeha she would stop by and thus mustn't be rude.

But the truth is that she wants this: a night with two women who care for her, and whom she cares for in return. If that's all this is, a night of talking and teasing, of little flirtations and laughter, then it will be enough. If it's something more intimate, and that's a mistake, then it's a mistake she desperately wants to make.

(The truth is that Angela is sure there is no heartbreak she can save herself from.)

She knocks on Aleksandra's door, and isn't surprised at all when Fareeha is the one who answers, or at the sports bra and gym shorts she's wearing, a towel hanging around her neck. "Angela," she says warmly, holding the door open and stepping back. "Come on in."

Angela walks inside, hesitating for a step before walking past Fareeha so that she can close the door, ignoring the way that something smells delicious, reminding her that she had only a sandwich and a banana for lunch. She cocks her head to one side, hearing running water from behind the closed bathroom door. "I take it Aleks won whatever bet you had at the gym and claimed first shower?"

Fareeha laughs and rakes a hand through her hair. "Not exactly. I wanted a little extra time before you came by, so I could put a plate together for you."

Angela's stomach growls in answer before she can, and Fareeha chuckles and ushers Angela toward the small table they've set up on one side of the room. They've set up a hot plate in the room, and from it Fareeha takes a plate and removes the cover from it. "Relax, eat. I'm gonna make sure Aleks doesn't use up all the hot water. Again."

After putting the plate down, she leans down to give Angela a quick kiss on the cheek, an almost platonic gesture if her lips hadn't lingered for just a second too long.

Angela holds herself carefully still, wanting to turn her head and capture Fareeha's lips with her own, wanting to pull her down by the back of the neck and kiss her deeply, not letting go until they're both panting.

As much space as they give her, it's hard for her to breathe sometimes.

Instead she settles for smiling at Fareeha and a quiet "Thank you," before gathering silverware and sitting down as Fareeha knocks on the bathroom door and slips inside.

She eats slowly, savoring the meal, trying to decide if she's warmed by Fareeha's confidence that she would come by or annoyed by it. But despite taking her time, she's finished before either of them emerge from the bathroom, and she looks around the room as she rinses her plate and fork.

There's not a lot of extra room in here; Aleksandra has a very large bed that takes up most of the space, and Fareeha had insisted on the little dining area with the mini fridge and hot plate. Which meant she had two main choices: sit back down at the table on the wooden chair, or the bed itself.

The past few days answer for her before common sense does, and Angela goes over to the bed, sitting on the edge gingerly for just a moment before letting herself fall backwards, her arms spread out, smiling at how she can't quite reach from side to side. She sighs and closes her eyes against the ceiling, absorbing the steady sound of running water and the occasional murmur of voices from behind the door.

She should probably be thinking of something: Hana's prognosis, or the work that's been put on hold while she takes care of Hana, or even just how she wants the night to go. Instead, Angela drifts, her mind blank until the door opens, and she turns her head to see Aleksandra emerge in a tank top and shorts, pulling the door shut behind her so that Angela only gets a glimpse of Fareeha under running water, form obscured by the glass shower door.

Aleksandra grins when she sees Angela. "Little bird," she says, "no matter how hard you try, you cannot take up the whole bed."

"I can try." Angela hums, as if in thought, and pushes herself up the bed until her head falls onto a pillow, resuming her spread armed position, though she angles herself to see Aleksandra better.

"And where would you have me sleep?" Aleksandra asks, raising an eyebrow, holding out her hands in question.

Judging by her smirk and the lilt in her voice, it's surely supposed to be just a teasing remark, but something about it makes Angela's throat close up. "Right here," she says, patting the side of the bed closest to Aleksandra.

And Aleksandra sits on the bed, waiting for Angela to move her arm before laying back, head propped up against the headboard. Angela notes the careful inch of space between them, the way Aleksandra makes sure not to brush against Angela even as she lays beside her.

They are so damn considerate of her, and frankly Angela can't stand it any longer.

She sits up and pivots fast enough that Aleksandra's not able to do more than sit up a little more, mouth open in a question, before Angela's got one knee thrown over Aleksandra's hips, straddling her and putting both hands on Aleksandra's shoulders. "Aleks," she says calmly, as if she wasn't straddling her right now in bed.

She doesn't miss the way Aleksandra's eyes flick toward the bathroom door, or the way she wets her lips. "Yes?"

"I'm going to kiss you."

Aleksandra's eyes flash, and Angela wastes no time in leaning forward, kissing her, relishing the feeling of Aleksandra's hands running up her back and keeping her close. She winds her fingers into Aleksandra's hair, then pulls back, making the soldier expose her throat with a soft gasp. Angela quickly shifts her attention there, knowing how much Aleksandra likes it, listening to each muted murmur and feeling the way Aleksandra pushes herself into each nip that Angela leaves along her neck, wanting it harder, wanting more.

"So eager," she whispers against skin, biting down a little harder to turn Aleksandra's answering laugh into a gasp.

"And who ambushed me?" Aleksandra counters as her hands find the bottom of Angela's shirt and start pushing it up.

Angela leans back to pull her shirt off, and Aleksandra has her bra off as soon as the shirt hits the floor. As Aleksandra's hands cover her breasts, Angela sighs, feeling the tension in her body start to ease. "I don't know why you bothered getting dressed," she says as she tugs at Aleksandra's tank top.

Laughing, Aleksandra leans forward and lifts her arms so that Angela can pull the garment off, which she does quickly, missing the warmth of Aleksandra's hands on her. "Maybe you only wanted sleep," she points out.

They're interrupted by Fareeha's quiet chuckle. "Couldn't even wait for me?" she quips, raising an eyebrow at the two on the bed as she stands in front of the bathroom door, just a towel wrapped around her.

"You were enjoying the shower," Aleksandra teases, though she reaches a hand out to her lover.

"I think I would've enjoyed being out here more," she says, undoing the towel with one motion and tossing it aside. Angela drinks in the expanse of her skin, the way her muscles move as she takes the few steps to the bed, hoping helplessly that Fareeha will touch her.

And Fareeha takes Aleksandra's outstretched hand, clasps it, presses a kiss to it, then looks toward Angela.

"Now then," she says, smoothly kneeling on the bed just behind Angela, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her back into her chest, her skin still warm from the shower. "How are we going to take care of you tonight?"

Angela tries not to shiver. "Any way you want," she says quietly.

She sees how Aleksandra looks past her, over her shoulder, though she can't decipher the look in her eyes or the way that Fareeha's arm tightens around her.

"Choose, Doctor," Aleksandra says, not unkindly. "Touch, or be touched?"

Angela hesitates, feeling the skin against her, trying not to rock her hips against Aleksandra or push herself back into Fareeha, tries to ignore the way she wants Fareeha's hand to move. Tries to forget the way Aleksandra's skin tasted, or the moan.

"Both," she says. "Both, but- touch."

"Good," Fareeha praises, pressing a kiss just behind her ear. Her hand finally moves, tracing a slow line up to her breast, trailing around the curve of it before her thumb and index finger flick over her nipple, and Angela nearly chokes on a sound of her own as Fareeha lightly squeezes the tip.

"Fareeha," she hears Aleksandra complain. "Do not distract her so much."

"Not until you've had your fun?" Fareeha shoots back, but with another, slightly more apologetic kiss to her neck, Fareeha lets her hand drift back down to her stomach. "But then, you did say touch."

"I said both," Angela says, swallowing back a whine.

Fareeha hums behind her, and Aleksandra cocks her head, her eyes quickly searching out Angela's.

"She is plotting," she warns, and then Fareeha is pulling away from Angela, standing back up on the side of the bed and holding her hand out.

"Can you stand?" she asks Angela, and then glances up the bed. "And would you mind moving down the bed?"

Aleksandra nods, taking the opportunity to rid herself of her shorts and underwear when Angela rises. Angela's caught by the sight of her abs working as Aleksandra moves down to the edge of the bed, up until the point when she realizes that Aleksandra is doing it on purpose.

Not that looking at Fareeha is really any better, considering the way that Fareeha is watching her, and Angela shudders as heat sears through her, making her fingers fumble with the button of her pants until Fareeha gently takes her hands in her own. Angela has to look up at her eyes, because if she looks at Fareeha's chest any longer she's not going to be able to resist touching.

"Is this okay?" Fareeha asks, voice quiet. "We can stop."

"Don't you dare," Angela says, and watches the way Fareeha nods only after a moment, sees movement in the corner of her eye and spots Aleksandra laying back down from propping herself up on her arms.

Fareeha lets go of her hands, but pops the button herself before kissing Angela quickly. "Then maybe we shouldn't keep Aleks waiting."

It only takes a moment to rid herself of the rest of her clothes, getting another kiss from Fareeha when she's finished that makes Aleksandra mumble something about fairness. It's Angela who gives in first - of course it is, she takes advantage of every opportunity she has to kiss these women - and she leans over the bed, resting her hands on Aleksandra's stomach to steady herself as she kisses her deeply. Fareeha's hands slide up her back, smoothing over her shoulders before traveling back down her sides and over onto her thighs.

"Here's the game," Fareeha says, and Aleksandra breaks the kiss but cups Angela's face in both hands, her thumbs stroking over her cheeks. It's soothing, and Angela quickly realizes that Aleksandra is making sure she can see Angela's reaction, make sure that this is alright, and now the consideration warms her.

"You touch Aleks," Fareeha continues. "However you want. But I will touch you only when you get a reaction from her."

"Yes," Angela says, wondering if her eyes have dilated the same way Aleksandra's have after hearing Fareeha's plan. "Yes, please."

"Am I allowed to touch?" Aleksandra asks, her voice dragging over the words.

Angela pauses, chewing her lower lip as she considers. She wants it, wants to feel Aleksandra, wants to lose herself between her and Fareeha. But she knows that it will distract her, and she does want to touch. Does want to do nothing than bring pleasure to someone else, at least once today.

( _You did that just by showing up,_ a small voice reminds her, and she quickly shoves the thought away.)

"No," she finally says, and when Aleksandra sighs and pretends to wipe a tear away from her eye, Angela laughs and concedes, "not yet."

"Too easy," Aleksandra chuckles, as she puts her hands above her head in a show of compliance.

Feeling the way one of Fareeha's hands steady her hips, how the other one smooths over the small of her back, Angela kisses Aleksandra, if only to hide her smile.

Turns out, it's easy to lose herself just like this, her fingers tracing Aleksandra's collarbones and shoulders, sliding partway up her arms just to feel them, just to show her appreciation of Aleksandra's playing along. To forget about everything else in the way Aleksandra opens her mouth to her, in the taste of her.

Fareeha touches her with every little sigh of Aleksandra's, with every shift of her hips. Slow and steady, her hands cupping her breasts and squeezing lightly or trailing over the inside of her thighs, making Angela hide a whine as she opens her legs a little more to her. It would be unbearably slow teasing if Aleksandra wasn't in front of her, but instead it just builds the heat inside Angela, one that sits in her stomach and rolls through her with each new touch.

The same heat drives her on, makes her play with Aleksandra's nipples, rolling them with her thumbs to see the way Aleksandra buries her hands in her own hair to keep to her promise. Angela loves that about her, the way she lets go in front of them, feels without hesitation or regret. She leans down to nip at Aleksandra's neck again, bites harder when Aleksandra presses herself up.

And then Fareeha presses a finger to Angela's clit in a brief but firm touch, and Angela's head falls against Aleksandra's shoulder with a gasp.

"Focus," she hears Fareeha tell her, her voice soft and loving.

"You try it," she answers, and hears the way Aleksandra laughs as Fareeha soothes Angela with a hand on her back.

"Maybe later," Fareeha says, and the image of that flashes through Angela's mind, making her shudder, making her wonder if 'later' means tonight or another night. Wondering which one she wants more.

But that is the opposite of focusing, so Angela presses a quick kiss to Aleksandra's shoulder as she rises again, as she lets her fingers dip lower, watching the way Aleksandra's eyes fall shut just as her hand slips between Aleksandra's legs. She pauses there, and Aleksandra smiles through her groan.

"Do not reward teasing," she complains to Fareeha, and Fareeha hums in thought.

"The rules only said reaction, not how-" and laughs as Aleksandra groans again.

Angela's heard this before, in all their competitive little bets, and she can't help but smile listening to them now, the easy way they talk to each other, the way Fareeha's hands are teasing her in return and how Aleksandra turns to her for appeal.

"If you need a rule change," she says, as if considering it, as if it's not something she desperately wants, "then touch me?"

That settles the minor dispute, and Aleksandra immediately puts her hands on Angela's sides, and now Angela really relaxes into their hands, feeling the way they both move against her.

Aleksandra is always so aware of her strength, is always so gentle. Her hands sweep slowly over Angela's skin, taking her time despite being denied for so long. By some unspoken arrangement, or perhaps just their time together, she and Fareeha never seem to clash, never seem to be trying to be in the same place at once, and as Aleksandra's hands play with her breasts or teasingly squeeze her ass, Fareeha's hands glide over Angela's thighs, tease at the wetness between her legs.

Angela knows she's stopped, is ignoring Aleksandra for a bit too long, but this time she isn't scolded for it. Instead, both of them seem to encourage her to take the moment. Fareeha kisses her skin, and Aleksandra murmurs something soft that Angela can't quite make out.

As much as heat runs through her veins, as much as her body wants to be touched more, craves the feeling of the release, she wants this too. This simple, easy belonging.

She's not paying attention to the way the Fareeha's hands slide down her skin, nor the small noise behind her. Not until she notices Aleksandra's little smirk, which is not enough warning to realize what's happening. Not until she feels Fareeha's finger circling her entrance before gently pushing inside. But she stops moving once she's fully inside, and Angela lets out a slow, shuddering breath, wanting so much more.

"Aleks," Fareeha says, and it takes Angela a moment to realize Fareeha is trying to prompt her.

Aleksandra is watching her with a quieter smile than usual, as if she's trying to memorize the moment, and Angela wants to tell her that there will be more moments like this one. Wants to promise her that next time she'll be better at paying attention. But the words stick in her throat, and so she does the only thing she can: she rolls her thumb over Aleksandra's clit, watches the way she throws her head back, the lines of her throat, and how her jaw works as she holds back a moan.

She's beautiful, so beautiful, and Angela repeats the motion, her legs trembling as Fareeha curls her finger inside of her. 

It takes so little time for them to find a rhythm, for Angela to thrust two fingers into Aleksandra, matching the pace of her hips, the wetness on her fingers mirroring the wetness on her own thighs. Fareeha quickly wraps an arm around Angela to support her, even as she pushes Angela higher, and Angela's free hand claws at Aleksandra's hip as if it could make Fareeha move faster.

She whines when Fareeha slows down instead, insisting on Aleksandra coming first, and Aleksandra watches her through half lidded eyes as she pants, as Fareeha leans forward to press encouraging kisses along her neck.

"Please," Angela tries, unsure of who she's imploring.

She's not expecting relief to come from Aleksandra's fingers sliding along her clit as Fareeha's fingers thrust into her, and despite wanting to play by the rules, Angela falls apart between them both. She's only vaguely aware of how she half collapses onto Aleksandra, of Aleksandra's shuddering release as Fareeha's hand covers Angela's for added pressure.

She knows that she rolls off to the side, ending up back in the middle of the bed, and that Fareeha lies down on her other side, fingers trailing along Angela's oversensitive skin. Angela's content to lie there in the afterglow, listening to the sounds of their mingled breathing and Aleksandra's happy little grumble as she turns toward Angela.

It's only then, listening to the difference, that she realizes- "Fareeha, you haven't-"

"Oh, I did," Fareeha replies, and the smugness in her tone makes Angela brace herself for whatever comes next. "Aleks took care of it in the shower before."

There's something in there that she should probably think about, should probably try to figure out how much they had planned from the start. But for now she just sighs, turning to kiss Fareeha like she'd wanted to at dinner, deep and slow. "Later then," she says, and watches the way surprise widens Fareeha's eyes before she relaxes into a smile.

"Later," she agrees, and Aleksandra throws an arm over Angela's waist, her hand reaching toward Fareeha.

"Staying then?" Aleksandra asks, and Angela tries not to think about all the times previous when she's left them, with excuses both real and manufactured.

"Yes," she says. Definitely for the night. Maybe for longer.

**Author's Note:**

> This originally appeared in the Femwatch: After Dark zine!


End file.
